Chapter 8 #2
Acknowledging the truth of his father’s words with a nod, Alex stood, humbled by the king’s faith in him. He could hardly resent the name “cub” when it was bestowed with the king’s favor.
Outside the manor, their horses were saddled and waiting.
The morning was cool and a wind stirred, blowing his hair.
Azor’s head perked up as Alex walked to the black stallion and stroked his neck.
“Another trip to the palace, boy.” He swung into the saddle, noting the gray clouds in the sky and hoped the threatened rain would hold off until that evening.
He smiled thinking of the two women he loved most spending the day together.
Rory and Guy, glad for a day free of the king’s business, came through the manor door to wish them a good day.
Having offered to accompany Merewyn and Lady Serena on their excursion into town, the two knights had a mission that would keep them occupied, one for which Alex was grateful.
With more of William’s army pouring into London every day, a few knights added to the men-at-arms who would accompany the women were welcome.
As he rode to the palace with his father and Sir Geoffroi, he experienced an unusual contentment as images of Merewyn filled his mind.
He had managed to reach his bedchamber just as his parents were returning to the manor.
After a deep sleep, he awoke in the morning with the most incredible smile on his face.
What was it about Merewyn that had filled him with the need to claim her?
Other women were as beautiful; noble women came with wealth and lands; and he had never wanted for those who willingly came to his bed.
But in Merewyn, he recognized strength like his own, a determination to overcome any obstacle and courage to reach the mark she had set for herself.
He needed such a woman by his side. His heart filled with the love for her he had not spoken, satisfied in the knowledge he had demonstrated his love in the way he knew best. The passion he had aroused from deep within her was more than he could have asked for.
But it was not merely passion that had driven him to claim Merewyn as his own.
It had been love, a bond that grew with each day.
He wanted to be with her, to have her at his side when he took his father’s place.
Now that he had made the lovely brave archer his, he had only to hold her. In time, he would tell his parents and deal with the king’s unwanted plans, but for now, ’twould be his secret.
They arrived at the palace along with a large number of nobles and knights who served the king.
Inside the hall, men gathered around a table where the king sat with his brother.
In addition to Ranulf Flambard, in attendance were Robert fitzHaimo, baron of Gloucester, and Earl Hugh of Chester along with a score of others.
Across from the king sat Duncan, the eldest son of Malcolm, King of Scots.
While Alex had not seen him at the feast the evening before, it made sense he would be here now.
As a lad, Duncan had been taken hostage by the Conqueror to secure his agreement with Scotland, but upon the Conqueror’s death, Duncan was freed and now served William Rufus by choice.
Just entering his third decade, the tall, dark-haired knight had shared with Alex his desire to one day take his rightful place as Scotland’s king.
“It was my father’s wish when he sent me to England that one day I would return to Scotland to govern the people,” Duncan had told him.
Alex, his father and Sir Geoffroi approached the king, who gestured to available places around the table.
“Now that all my barons are here,” said William, “we will share our royal strategy with you. Our plan is to take the same route my father took years ago following the old Roman road north. My fleet of fifty ships, laden with corn, will meet us on the Tyne River to resupply us before sailing on to Scotland where my army and my ships will corner the wily King of Scots.”
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.
“Worked well before,” said Earl Hugh.
Alex shared a glance with his father and Sir Geoffroi and detected no objection in their eyes. The plan was sound.
He eyed Duncan sitting to the king’s right. What did he think of this plan to set upon his father? The knight’s face told him nothing. Mayhap he had lived so long among the Normans he was more at home with them than the Scots.
“With the lapse of time,” the king continued, “I expect Malcolm has retreated to Lothian and his fortress at Dun Edin. ’Tis where we will find him.” He looked around the table at the faces of his barons. “Do any of you disagree?”
Those sitting around the king shook their heads, Alex among them.
Duke Robert stood, goblet in hand. “It appears we are agreed. To the coming encounter with the King of Scots, a battle if it must be!”
All stood, even the king. “To the battle!” they shouted and quaffed their wine. But in his father’s eyes, Alex now glimpsed a flicker of doubt.
When the men began to disperse, entering into separate conversations, Alex strode to him. “Father, you have concerns?”
His father shot a glance at Sir Geoffroi, standing next to him.
“I remember the Conqueror’s meeting with Malcolm in Scotland nearly twenty years ago.
The Scottish king was surrounded, William’s army before him and the fleet behind him, and yet he bargained for peace and got it.
The Conqueror was no fool. A battle on the Scots’ territory is not easily fought, nor easily won. He was happy to have Malcolm’s oath.”
“We were there to see it,” said Sir Geoffroi.
“But was not that oath extinguished with the Conqueror’s death?” Alex asked.
“Aye,” said his father, “but mayhap Malcolm can be persuaded to give it again.”
“If the king will agree to take it,” said Alex. “I am inclined to believe William will want more.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the king came to join them. “Good day to my wolves,” he said, “and to you, Sir Geoffroi.”
“Good day to you, Sire,” replied Alex’s father, inclining his head. Alex and Sir Geoffroi dipped their heads, acknowledging the king.
Fixing his eyes on Alex, William said, “You swept the young bowman, Merry, away so fast last eve, I did not have time to inquire of her origins. I would know where such a delightful creature comes from.”
Sir Geoffroi answered. “York, My Lord. Her mother was from Yorkshire and she was born there.”
“And her father?” asked the king. “Is he also English?”
Sir Geoffroi’s expression turned somber. “Nay, he was Norman, a knight.”
Alex’s father added, “Sir Eude is dead, Sire.”
“Hmm…” the king seemed to ponder, then asked, “Killed fighting the Northumbrians?”
“Nay, My Lord,” said Sir Geoffroi. “He was killed in York by my own right hand.”
The king’s reddish brows lifted in surprise at the senior knight towering over him. Alex had known a Norman knight raped Merewyn’s mother; he did not know Sir Geoffroi had killed the man responsible.
There was no hint of regret in Sir Geoffroi’s eyes. “He was a despicable man, My Lord, unworthy to be a knight. He brutally forced Merewyn’s mother, an innocent, and was about to slice the neck of a young orphan under my wife’s protection when I stopped him.”
The king tossed his mane of yellow hair over one shoulder and rubbed his short red beard with the fingers of one hand.
“Some of my father’s men were mercenary knights, no doubt ruffians of the worst sort, but that was what he needed at the time.
” Looking up at Sir Geoffroi, he said, “I cannot find fault with what you did. Mayhap ’twas best my father’s army was well rid of him. ”
“Thank you, My Lord,” said the senior knight, looking relieved. “I can assure you we have done right by Merewyn. Earl Renaud and I have assured she was educated as a lady.” He glanced at Alex’s father. “She is not only a talented archer, but a virtuous young woman.”
Having claimed Merewyn’s virtue for his own, Alex was pierced by a stab of guilt.
But it was not because he had succumbed to temptation.
His intentions toward her were honorable.
The timing had been hers. He did not believe the church’s blessing was necessary, but his mother would have preferred it.
He would see Father Bernard when they returned to Talisand to be sure.
The king, who would dictate a different match, knew nothing of his joining with Merewyn. She was not even of noble blood. While it mattered not to Alex, he faced a difficult challenge to make his sovereign accept his choice.
“Where in Normandy was this Eude from?” asked the king, dropping the title “Sir”. Mayhap William agreed with Sir Geoffroi that the man did not deserve to be a knight.
“He was Eude de Fourneaux.”
The king narrowed his eyes, appearing to ponder this new information. “Ah yes, near Falaise.”
“Aye,” said Sir Geoffroi.
“Well, no matter.” William flicked his hand away from his chin dismissively and looked to Alex’s father. “Do you plan to return to the north soon?”
“I do, Sire. My lady is not often away from our youngest son and is anxious to return.” Smiling, he added, “The wild child bears watching.” Alex’s parents were not the only ones eager to return to Talisand. He wanted to leave so he could share the days he had before Scotland with Merewyn.
“By the face of Lucca,” remarked the king, “you raise yet another wolf cub for my army.”
A grin spread over the face of Talisand’s lord. “I just might, Sire.”
* * *
Shouts of merchants calling attention to their wares filled the air as Merewyn and Lady Serena strolled down Cheapside Street, meandering from one stall to another, delighted with all they found.
The merchants’ cries competed with the conversations of the hundreds of people thronging the narrow streets of London. The shops had been opened since the town bell rang at Prime and were now doing a brisk business.